"Rest satisfied with my peremptory promise," replied Winthrop. "And now, Sir Christopher, that this business which you have so much at heart is in a fair train to arrive at a result to content you, tell me something of your doings at the Mount of Promise, as it is your pleasure to call your retirement. How fares it with your kinswoman, the lady Geraldine? Time, I trust, doth blunt the edge of her melancholy."
"Alas, no! she still continues to grieve with an unreasonable grief. Time brings no balm."
"It should not be so. The sooner we become reconciled to the afflictive dispensations of Providence (under which I understand she suffers,) the better for both soul's and body's health."
"There are some natures, whereupon, when an impression is once made, it is not readily effaced, and the lady Geraldine's is such. Yet do I not despair of her restoration to tranquillity."
"I must request godly Mr. Eliot to visit her. There is no soother so effectual as the soft voice of the Gospel. But for yourself, Sir Christopher, tire you not of the monotony of your forest life?"
"So far therefrom, I love it hourly more. My early days were wild and stormy, of some particulars whereof I have possessed you; and although I have not reached my meridian, yet am I satiated with vanity. I am like a ship, whose tempest-beaten sides rest sweetly in a haven. As contentedly she hears the winds howling without, so I listen from afar to the uproar of the world, and pleased, contrast my calm therewith."
"Man was not made for inaction," said Winthrop.
"I shun no honorable labor. Instruct me how to be useful to the little State which enjoys the happiness to call you father and ruler, and no toil or danger but shall be welcome."
"You know there is but one difficulty that stands in your way to occupy the position due to both your rank and merit."
A shadow passed over the face of the knight.